He stood before my heart's closed door, And asked to enter in; But I had barred the passage o'er By unbelief and sin. He came with nail-prints in his hands, To set my spirit free; With wounded feet he trod a path To come and sup with me. He found me poor and brought me gold, The fire of love had tried, And garments whitened by his blood, My wretchedness to hide.

Twas a night of dreadful horror,-- Death was sweeping through the land; And the wings of dark destruction Were outstretched from strand to strand Strong men's hearts grew faint with terror, As the tempest and the waves Wrecked their homes and swept them downward, Suddenly to yawning graves. 'Mid the wastes of ruined households, And the tempest's wild alarms, Stood a terror-stricken mother With a child within her arms. Other children huddled 'round her,